I’m Not Afraid. . . .

Those little ripples that hint at something being wrong but are so easy to ignore. I should know. I’ve spent my life doing just that.

On the TV series Once Upon a Time this past Sunday, the character of Elsa—their recent transplant from the silver screen who comes straight from last year’s blockbuster, Frozen—was imprisoned in blocks of ice by this season’s villain, the Snow Queen. Elsa’s inability to break free, the Queen told her, came out of her fear. As long as she was afraid, she would remain trapped. Frozen.

I know how she feels.

Because no matter how many times I tell myself not to be afraid or remind myself of all the places in Scripture where we’re admonished to “Fear not,” I still tremble at the maybes and what ifs of an unknown and uncontrollable future. And each time, I have to push aside those aforementioned twinges that warn me I could lose everything, or never have something, or—the worst fear of all—die alone because I’m single and childless and, as far as I know, always will be.

Forget the ghouls and goblins and gore of Halloween. I’m the spinster-girl who tells herself those scrapes she hears late at night are her cat or the wind whipping tree branches against the side of her house. Except I don’t have any trees close enough to make that noise. But I do have a cat, so he gets blamed for a lot.

It’s not that I let the fear conquer me. I’m not OCD about locking my doors, nor do I cower in a corner of my room, jumping at every noise. Today’s fears are less about someone breaking into my home and more about failing. Failing in work. Failing in relationships. Failing in my faith.

That last one is key. I don’t want to let God down, yet I feel I do so on a regular basis.

Fortunately, the Bible does say, “Fear not,” over and over again. And God knows my flaws and failures and, amazingly, loves me anyway.